


One Hell of a Life

by Anna_Heyward



Series: The Biggest Part of Me 'verse [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2018-11-05 09:46:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11010915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anna_Heyward/pseuds/Anna_Heyward
Summary: Steve and Bucky embark on the next chapter of their life together. This will be a series of timestamps following the boys over the next few years after the events in The Biggest Part of Me.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've decided to do these timestamps in a multi-chapter format instead of posting them as individual works, since the events here will take place over the course of the next several years and will roughly have a plot weaving them together. Tags will update with each new chapter.

Bucky has been keeping a secret from Steve.

He hadn’t intended to, exactly. He wasn’t deliberately keeping this from Steve, he just… hadn’t wanted to say anything just yet. Not until he was sure. Not until he had all the details worked out. Because, let’s face it, not many things ever worked out in Bucky’s favor. He’d already nabbed himself a great job and an even better life with the guy of his dreams. Why jinx it by telling said Dream Guy about this thing that was probably not going to happen anyway?

Except that now, Bucky had this letter in his hands, and fuck. He had to come clean. Steve deserved to know.

He let himself into Steve’s apartment after a long, exhausting week at work. With exams looming and final projects to grade, Bucky had been kept pretty busy by the professors in the language department and he really hated to even think it, but if this weren’t Sharon’s weekend with the kids Bucky probably would’ve gone straight to his place and crashed. He threw the letter along with his bag on the kitchen table, cracked open a beer, and headed for Steve’s bedroom to grab some more comfortable clothes to change into, tossing his own into Steve’s hamper. One of these days he’d probably feel guilty for sneaking his laundry in with Steve’s, but today was not going to be that day.

He heard Steve come in, and peeked his head out from the bedroom door as he finished donning a pair of Steve’s old sweatpants. Sure, the kids weren’t going to be coming home, but Bucky just couldn’t bring himself to walk out there in his underwear yet. “Hey, babe,” he called out. “I’m back here.”

Steve tossed his keys on the table and sauntered back to Bucky. “Getting dressed?” Steve asked as he wound his hands around Buck’s waist, grabbing a handful of Bucky’s ass as he plied Bucky’s mouth open in a filthy hello kiss. “Don’t you think we should be moving things in the other direction?”

“You’re in a mood this afternoon,” Bucky chuckled in spite of himself as Steve nuzzled their noses together.

“I had a good day. Couldn’t wait to get home and tell you about it.”

“Yeah? Good news?”

“The best.” Steve gave Bucky one last peck on the lips, but then his smile faltered. “Buck? Something wrong?”

Bucky took a deep breath. No time like the present, and all that. “Steve, there’s something I gotta tell you.”

 

* * *

 

_A few months back_

It was unseasonably warm for February, almost like Mother Nature had decided to give hardworking folks a break and skip winter altogether. So, like most of the NYU campus (or pretty much all of Manhattan, for that matter), Bucky had decided to take his lunch to Washington Square Park instead of eating indoors at his cubicle.

“Ah, Mister Barnes,” a voice greeted him in clipped German.

Bucky glanced up to see his boss, the Dean of the Foreign Language Education department, and smiled. He’d always liked and respected the man. “Hey, Dr. Erskine. Have a seat.”

“Thank you.” Dr. Erskine sat down next to Bucky, leaning back against the rear of the bench and stretching his legs out in front of him. “I know I should be working, but I confess, I never could resist a beautiful day.”

“Especially with a view like this, huh?”

“One of the many reasons I have remained here as long as I have.”

Bucky eyed Dr. Erskine, wondering for a moment whether he should say what was really on his mind, and decided to chance it. “So, I take it the rumors aren’t true, then?”

Erskine quirked an eyebrow at Bucky. “Rumors, Mister Barnes?”

“About you retiring.”

Erskine chuckled. “The pursuit of knowledge is ageless, Mister Barnes. The long hours of working in academia, however, are for the young, I am afraid.”

Bucky’s eyebrows shot up. He’d honestly thought it was all bullshit. “Really? You’re leaving?”

“Such rumors are usually greatly exaggerated, but I confess in this case, they are true. I am retiring.” Dr. Erskine shot Bucky a side glance and smiled. “In a few years.”

Bucky huffed a laugh. “Can’t get rid of you that easily, huh?”

“I do have the future of the Language Education Department to consider. Professor Ayala would make a fine Dean in my absence, don’t you think?”

Bucky hesitated. Should a lowly TA be discussing the professors with the Dean like this? But Erskine started it, so… “Yeah,” Bucky hedged. Dr. Erskine wasn’t wrong. Professor Ayala was awesome.

“Unfortunately, the man who would be my first choice for his replacement won’t be ready to start for a few more years.”

“A few years?" Bucky asked. "Why? He under contract somewhere?”

“Not as such, no.” Dr. Erskine reached into his jacket and withdrew an envelope. “This man is one of the brightest minds I’ve had the pleasure of getting to know, but something tells me he won’t be available to teach full-time for the foreseeable future. That’s quite alright with me, however,” he said, dropping the envelope in Bucky’s lap as he stood up to leave. “With a view such as this, I am more than happy to delay my retirement and wait for him.”

Bucky watched Dr. Erskine stroll away and fade into the crowd, wondering what the hell all that was about. He set his sandwich down and turned his attention to the envelope in his lap. He opened it and pulled out a packet of papers, his mouth dropping when he read the words on the top page.

 

_NYU Graduate School of Arts and Science_

_Master’s Degree Program Application_

* * *

 

Bucky stood there, his heart in his throat as he watched Steve read his acceptance letter. Steve’s features remained expressionless as his eyes scanned the page. At long last Steve set the letter down and pulled his phone out of his pocket and began tapping away furiously at the screen.

“Steve? What are you doing?”

“Texting Sam. I’m letting him know we’re not gonna make it to the bar tonight.”

“We’re not?” _Shit_ , Bucky thought, his heart racing, _Steve’s_ _pissed. He’s pissed, and we’re gonna stay in and have it out, and he’s probably gonna break up with me, and holy hell, what have I done?_

Steve tossed his phone on the nightstand and pulled Bucky into his arms, attacking his mouth with a thorough tongue-fucking that left nothing to the imagination.

 

* * *

 

_One hour later_

“So, you’re not pissed, then?” Bucky asked as Steve spooned up behind him, peppering his back with kisses as they both came down from round two.

Steve stopped. “Is that what you thought? That I’d be mad at you?” He pulled at Bucky’s shoulder until Bucky was lying beneath him, and stroked the sweat-soaked locks away from Bucky’s face. “Buck, I am so fucking proud of you, you have no idea.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “I haven’t done anything yet.”

“Are you kidding me? The Dean of your department, at one of the finest universities in the country I mighty add, basically up and offered you a professorship before you’d even applied to the graduate program, and you think you didn’t do anything?” Steve leaned in and captured Bucky’s lips in a soft kiss. “You’re amazing, Bucky Barnes. You’re amazing, and I love you so much.”

Bucky smiled. “Yeah, well, you won’t be saying that a year from now when I’m up to my eyeballs in debt and we haven’t seen each other in weeks because I’ve been holed up in my room studying.”

“I don’t care about the money.” Steve nuzzled Bucky’s neck. “And yes, I will hate not seeing you as often, but this is important. And you’re worth the wait.”

Bucky couldn’t help it, he burst into laughter. “Has anyone ever told you what a cornball you turn into after you get laid?” He rolled back onto his side and Steve snuggled in behind.

“I guess you bring it out in me. Besides, I know one way we can still see each other every night, even if you’re spending every free moment studying.”

Bucky’s eyes boggled as the implication behind Steve’s words sunk in. “You saying what I think you’re saying, Steve Rogers?”

“Move in with me, Buck.”

Bucky threaded his fingers through Steve’s and pulled Steve’s arms tighter around himself. “How about we take one major life change at a time, okay?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I changed the name of the thing.

Steve had known this was coming for a while.  Well, a couple of weeks at least.

But he hadn’t said anything to Bucky, because he was so sure it was gonna fall through. Things like this just didn’t happen to Steve Rogers, okay?

He was glad it came on a day when the kids would be with Sharon, though, so he could freak out alone for a while. Bucky would be coming over in a bit after his last class; maybe he would know what to do about it.

Steve smiled to himself at the thought of Bucky, despite his internal freak-out. He was so fucking proud of his boyfriend. Bucky was kicking his Master’s classes in the ass so far (like Steve knew he would). It had only been a month, sure, so Steve knew things would get far more intense as the year progressed, but so far Bucky seemed to be handling things well. He was acing all of his classes (of course), and had even managed to carve out a few hours last week to bring Steve lunch. It was the first time Steve had seen him in person in three weeks, so it was a nice surprise. And now he was coming over. For the whole weekend.

Steve would be excited if he weren’t so stressed out over the little slip of paper in front of him.

He took another sip of Scotch as the front door opened, and nodded a greeting at Bucky.

“You drinking alone, sailor?” Bucky asked, cocking an eyebrow at Steve as he leaned against the door frame.

Steve sniffed a laugh at Bucky’s words as he set the glass down. “Yes, Buck, I’m alone. Kids are at Sharon’s. We officially have the whole place to ourselves until Monday morning.”

“Oh, thank God.” Bucky dropped his bag, kicked the front door closed, and crossed over to Steve in three steps, straddling his lap. “Fuck, I have missed you.”

Steve let his hands roam over the muscular planes of Bucky’s back as Bucky dove in, kissing Steve like a man starved. He let Bucky claim him and take what he needed, shivering at the slow drag of Bucky’s tongue against his own. And it wasn’t until Steve finally relaxed into it, the weight of the slip of paper on the kitchen table momentarily forgotten, that Bucky finally pulled away.

“Okay,” Bucky said, placing one final peck on Steve’s forehead. “You wanna tell me why you’re drinking Scotch at 4:00 on a Friday when we’re meeting Sam and Tony and Bruce at the bar in two hours?”

Steve slumped back into the seat with a sigh. “I’m sorry. I should’ve said something earlier, but… I was so sure this was gonna fall through. And then it didn’t, and now I don’t know what I’m gonna do…”

Bucky placed his hands on Steve’s shoulders. “Baby, breathe. Whatever it is, we’ll get through this.”

Steve took another deep breath and nodded. Bucky was here. Bucky would know what to do. “A few weeks back, Pepper donated a few of her paintings to the gallery to sell. To raise money for the next round of renovations, you know, for the expansion.”

“Yeah, I remember you mentioning that. So what, the paintings are fakes? The funding fall through or something?”

Steve shook his head. “No, nothing like that. The paintings are real. I sold one a coupl’a weeks back. The payment came today, and I got my commission.” He grabbed the slip of paper off the table and handed it to Bucky. “Look.”

Bucky took the check from Steve’s hands, his eyes boggling when he saw the amount. “Jesus fuck, Steve. This is real?”

Steve took another deep breath and nodded. He was going to hyperventilate at this rate.

“Steve, this is a quarter of a million dollars.”

“And that’s why I’m drinking Scotch at 4:00 on a Friday.”

Bucky took the rest of Steve’s glass and downed its contents in one gulp. “Shit.”

“Exactly.”

“So what’re you gonna do with the money?”

Steve gaped at Bucky “You think I know? I’ve never seen that kind of money in my life. I was a stay at home dad until a year ago, for Christ’s sake. I barely deserve to run a freaking gallery, much less…”

“Stop it, Steve, just stop it. Breathe, baby.” Bucky set the check down on the table and cradled Steve’s face in his hands. “You deserve ever bit of everything that’s happened to you. First of all, Pepper would not have hired you if she didn’t think you were the best man for the job. Come on, does Pepper Potts really seem like the kind of woman to half-ass anything?”

Steve cracked a smile in spite of himself. “Nah. She definitely uses her whole ass.”

“See? A joke. I’m getting through to you already.”

“It’s just… getting this job was a one-in-a-million shot. I know that. A guy like me should’ve been teaching art to elementary school kids and having bake sales to raise money for supplies, not running a high-end gallery for a 6 figure salary and selling million dollar paintings to rich socialites for a commission that’s twice my yearly income. Bucky, things like that don’t just happen.”

Bucky slid off Steve’s lap and held out his hand. Steve took it, and stood up, his hands immediately falling to Bucky’s waist where they belonged. Bucky wrapped his arms around Steve’s shoulders and pulled him flush until their noses were touching. “Sometimes good things happen to good people. I mean, look at me. I must’ve done something good somewhere in my fucked-up life to have a guy like you give me a second glance. But I’m not gonna tempt fate and question it. I’m just gonna thank God every day that it happened and do my best not to screw it up.”

Steve let his eyes slip shut and he held Bucky tight, breathing him in. Maybe Bucky was right; maybe he _did_ deserve a fancy job and a quarter of a million dollars. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe he deserved the man in his arms, too; maybe he didn’t. And maybe, just maybe, having so many good things happen meant that Steve was due for something shitty to come along and knock him on his ass. But maybe not. If Bucky wasn’t gonna tempt fate question it, he wasn’t either.

From now on he was gonna thank God every day that all this happened and do his best not to screw it up. “I love you, Buck.”

“I love you too.” Bucky smiled, took Steve’s hand, and led them toward the bedroom. “Now come on. I haven’t seen your dick in almost a month. I think it’s time for a reunion.”

 

* * *

 

“Hot damn, Steve,” Sam whistled when Bucky spilled the beans about Steve’s commission. “Bartender! A round of Macallans on my rich friend here!”

Tony smirked as he lined up his shot at the pool table. “Aww, Steve that’s so cute. I remember my first quarter million.”

“No you don’t,” Bruce deadpanned.

“You’re right. No, I don’t. They all kind of run together after a while.”

“Steve, congratulations.” Bruce reached over and shook his hand. “You thought about what you’re gonna do with the money?”

Steve shrugged. “Probably put most of it in the bank, add to the kids’ college funds. The usual.”

Tony blew a raspberry. “Bo-ring!”

“Come on, Stevie.” Bucky knocked Steve’s shoulder with his own as he crossed over to the other side of the table with his cue. “You gotta do something fun. Spend at least a little of it on something completely frivolous.”

“Frivolous? Steve Rogers?” Sam laughed, clapping Steve on the shoulder. “You’re talking about a man who saves his birthday gift cards to buy Christmas presents with. He does not know the meaning of the word ‘frivolous’.”

“I can be frivolous,” Steve scowled.

Sam’s eyebrows shot up. “Why don’t you tell these guys what you bought with that Amazon card I got you last year for your birthday?”

“Not Christmas presents!” Steve protested.

“What. Did. You. Get?” Sam reiterated.

“School supplies,” Steve huffed. “But in my defense I was unemployed. I’d just gotten divorced!”

Sam shook his head. “Not in July, you didn’t. Which is why this year, you got a bottle of Johnny Walker.”

Bucky chuckled. “Which came in handy this afternoon, if I recall. Good call, Sam.”

“Okay, fine,” Steve conceded. “Maybe I do like to be practical with my money. But I don’t see anything wrong with that, especially with two kids to think about. You guys can tease me all you want, but the kids come first.”

“Of course they do.” Bucky put a hand on Steve’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “But you need to do something for yourself once in a while.”

“Absolutely,” Bruce agreed as he took his turn at the table. “Put most of the money away, but you should still do just one thing for yourself that you wouldn’t otherwise. Even if it’s something small.”

“Yes, something small.” Tony pointed at Steve with his beer bottle. “Like a… small house in Malibu.”

“Tony.” Steve shook his head in exasperation and grinned. “I don’t know if you’re in touch with what stuff actually costs…”

“No, seriously, you should. Doctor’s orders. Right, Bruce?”

Bruce leveled a look at Tony. “You know I’m not that kind of doctor, right?”

“Besides, I don’t think Steve’s ever actually been to a beach,” Sam piped up.

“I have a PhD in Nuclear Physics. I _work_ for you, Tony.”

“That’s what you need to do, Steve.” Bucky smacked Steve on the shoulder. “Take the kids to the beach!”

Steve shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Come on,” Bucky cajoled. “There’s gotta be _something_ you’ve always wanted but never had the money for.”

Steve kept silent and took another swig of his beer. Actually, there was something he’d always wanted. Something he’d fallen in love with when he was eleven years old and saw his favorite comic book hero with. Something that he never could afford as the son of a single mom, or a poor college student, or a stay-at-home-dad. Something that might actually be in the realm of possible now.

“You know,” Steve said, “I’ve always kinda wanted a motorcycle.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I find Tony Stark to be incredibly hard to write. Mucho kudos to all those authors who get him right. Also, as of right now I'm undecided as to whether Steve will actually go through with buying the motorcycle. I can picture it both ways. On the one hand, they are pretty dangerous and Steve is just so much a responsible dad. On the other hand, Steve Rogers in leather on the back of a Harley is better than porn. I'm torn.
> 
> What do you guys think? I might actually take prompts on this one.
> 
> Also, as you all have probably figured out, I'm pretty terrible at keeping up with reading your comments. Thank you all so much for all the love!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve does some research for how he's gonna spend his bonus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many apologies. I've been working on a few other fics and forgot I never posted this.

_The following afternoon_

 

She was a thing of beauty.

She was the 2010 Harley-Davidson FLSTSB Cross Bones: Twin Cam 96B engine, 1584 cc, 96 ft/lbs torque, 64 hp, coming in at a pretty hefty 700 lbs. She had a Springer front end and vintage details, rendering her reminiscent of the post-war hog that Steve had first fallen in love with when he was 14. That particular motorcycle, however – ridden by young Steve’s favorite comic book hero – was a custom job, retrofitted by the secret government agency the hero had worked for, thereby rendering it impossible for a grown-up Steve Rogers to purchase. The Cross Bones, though? It was pretty damn close. But those high-set handlebars might get a little uncomfortable after a while, especially for a newbie rider like Steve.

Then there was the Street 750: Revolution X V-twin engine, 749 cc, 44.5 ft/lbs torque, 68 hp, coming in at a much lighter 489 lbs. This girl was the one Steve’s comic book hero had ridden in the recent movie version – smaller, sleeker, and sexy as hell. It wasn’t hard for Steve to picture himself out on the open highway with this baby between his legs, wind whipping through his hair, Bucky’s arms wrapped snugly around his waist. However, some of the online reviews mentioned that it may be a little on the uncomfortable side for a man of Steve’s size.

Damn. This was gonna be harder than he thought, Steve realized as he scrolled through listing after listing online. They were all so tempting; how was he ever going to decide? This money was almost turning out to be more trouble than it was worth. Why did he have to let the guys talk him into this last night? He should’ve just kept his mouth shut and put the money in the kids’ college funds like he’d originally planned. At this rate finding the perfect dream bike was going to take months, if not longer. Months of chasing a dream, with the lingering possibility that he might never be fully satisfied with the outcome? Steve huffed to himself as he clicked on the next page.

“Okay, that’s it.” Bucky slammed his textbook shut and began gathering his things together, shoving them in his backpack.

That got Steve’s attention. Shit, had he really been that loud? “Where are you going?”

“To the library. I’m sorry, babe, but I gotta get this done, and I can’t concentrate with you huffin’ and puffin’ over there, slamming your keyboard every 5 seconds.” He shouldered his backpack and leaned in to give Steve a goodbye kiss. “I’ll be back in time for dinner. Promise.”

“Buck, wait.” Steve stilled Bucky, placing a hand on his chest. He felt awful; he’d promised Bucky a quiet place to study for the afternoon, and here he was, letting himself get all worked up over something stupid. Why hadn’t he just gotten his sketch pad and pencils out instead? “I’m sorry. Look, you stay here. I’ll get lost for a few hours, get out of your hair.”

Bucky frowned. “You sure?”

Steve closed his laptop and stood up. “Absolutely. Text me when you’re done?”

Bucky dropped his bag and hung his head for a moment, raking his fingers through his hair. “I wasn’t trying to kick you out of your own place, I swear.”

“It’s okay, Buck. Your paper is more important than my motorcycle. It’s not like I’m gonna find one online today anyway.” Steve leaned in and gave him a peck on the lips. “Hey, maybe I’ll just run by the Harley dealership and buy one. We could go out for a celebratory ride tonight. How does that sound?”

Bucky chuckled. “Yeah, I’ll believe that when I see it. You, making a decision like that without weeks of meticulous planning and research beforehand?”

Steve scoffed. “Hey, I can be spontaneous!”

“Come on, Steve. We both know you’re just going to go to the gallery and sit in your office until I text you.”

“Am not,” Steve huffed. He was going to the warehouse to finish sifting through the newest paintings they’d acquired for the local artists exhibit instead.

“Well, regardless, I appreciate it. Really.” Bucky leaned in for one more kiss. “I’ll text you in a few hours.”

Steve slipped out, wondering to himself what the hell he was gonna do now. An afternoon to himself with no kids, no Bucky, and now no gallery? He couldn’t; Bucky would know.

But… He _could_ just go buy a motorcycle.

Why not?

 

* * *

 

**Bucky: I’m done. You can stop hiding at the gallery now ;)**

**Steve: You don’t know me at all.**

**Steve: I went to a vintage clothing store down the street.**

**Bucky: Vintage clothing? Haha that’s the worst cover story ever.**

**Steve: Hey, I don’t need this kind of abuse.**

**Steve: Want to meet for dinner? We can go to that Italian place you like.**

**Bucky: Nah, just pick up some takeout on your way home. I’d rather stay in tonight.**

**Steve: Netflix and chill?**

**Bucky: Jesus, how do you even know what that means?**

**Bucky: And yes, that was my plan. You ruined my surprise. WTG**

**Steve: I’ll make it up to you. Got a surprise of my own.**

**Steve: See, I can be spontaneous.**

**Bucky: Can’t wait. See you in a few. ILY**

**Steve: ILY2**

 

* * *

 

Bucky was starting to get worried. It had been over thirty minutes since Steve had texted him back, and he still wasn’t home yet. This wasn’t like him. Sure, it was entirely possible that he had gotten held up at whatever place he’d stopped for dinner, but surely he would’ve sent a quick message with a “Sorry Buck, long line,” or something to that effect. But no word at all? Okay, yeah. Bucky was officially worried.

He picked up his phone to call Steve, when it rang in his hand. “Fucking Christ, Steve,” he said by way of greeting. “I just picked up my phone to call you. Scared me half to death. Where the hell are you?”

“Outside. Can you come down? Got something to show you,” Steve answered coyly.

Bucky’s heart stopped. _No. No fucking way. No way in hell did he actually do it_. “Um, okay. Be down in a sec.”

Bucky grabbed his jacket and locked up behind himself, because something told him that he and Steve wouldn’t be coming back up. Not right away, anyway. He tripped over his own feet as he descended the stairs in a rush, heart beating wildly as he exited the building and glanced around frantically for Steve.

And then he heard it, the tell-tale guttural roar of a motorcycle engine being revved. Bucky turned around, and there Steve was. On the back of a Harley. Maybe it was a Harley? He didn’t even really fucking know. But it didn’t matter anyway, because when Steve pulled his helmet off and smiled at Bucky from beneath those Ray-Bans, with that leather jacket framing his body ( _and when in the actual hell did he get a leather jacket?),_ Bucky felt himself get instantly hard.

“You like it?” Steve grinned.

“What the fuck did you do? You actually went out and bought a goddamn motorcycle?” Bucky was gonna have to revise so many of his opinions on Steve, if he could do something this out-of-left-field.

Steve glanced down, smiling sheepishly. “Actually, no. You were right. There’s no way I could spend that kind of money on something this big without researching it first.”

“Then what…?”

“Call this research,” Steve shrugged. “Relax, Buck. It’s a rental. I have to return it tomorrow.”

Bucky was speechless. On the one hand, it was just so _Steve_ , to put this level of research into something so huge. But at the same time… _Steve in leather._ That was a kink Bucky was completely unaware of until just now, but one that he definitely needed more of. Why had it never occurred to him before now that Steve the Motorcycle Man would also probably be wearing leather? Bucky found himself laughing at the absurdity of it all. “I can’t believe you did this!”

Steve climbed off, gracefully of course, like he'd been doing it for years, and wrapped his arms around Bucky’s waist. “So, you wanna take her for a spin? Rides like a dream.”

“Do you even know how to ride that thing?”

Steve scoffed. “What do you think I’ve been doing for the last hour?”

“Oh, you’ve had a whole hour of practice. Well, then, by all means.”

“Buck, it’s fine. It’s a lot like riding a bicycle, actually. It’s just balance. With a lot more horsepower behind it.” Steve could see Bucky still wasn’t quite buying it. “Look, I promise I’ll stick to the back roads. No expressways or busy streets.”

“Steve… I…” This was so much insanity, Bucky didn’t know what to focus on first. “Where did you even get this leather jacket, anyway?”

Steve chuckled. “I told you, vintage clothing store down the street.”

“Wait, you actually went?”

“The guy there was the one who told me about the rental place, actually.” Steve sighed. “Look, if you don’t want to go, that’s fine. I know these things aren’t for everybody.”

“No, it’s not that. I’m just stunned, is all.” Bucky found himself running his fingers along the leather encasing Steve’s biceps. So soft, so supple, hugging Steve’s curves like it was made for them. Bucky had a sudden vision of Steve fucking him later, wearing nothing but that jacket and those Ray-Bans. Or maybe Bucky could ride him. Feel that raw power between his legs.

Bucky cocked an eyebrow up at Steve. “So, you got an extra helmet, hotshot?”

Oh, yeah. Dinner could wait.

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this thing is subject to change. I'm not 100% sold on it yet. What do you all think?


End file.
